


The Handmaid's Tale

by maya28



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - The Handmaid's Tale Fusion, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Polyamory, Psychological Torture, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Torture, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, because spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16776172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maya28/pseuds/maya28
Summary: Peter is fighting to survive in a brave new world. Before he can even comprehend the horror of the Red Center, his life is crushed to pieces once more when he is assigned to a young commander and his uncanny household.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, folks. So this is pretty much an experimental work of mine. I've been playing with this idea in my head for a while and I'm curious if it would find an audience. I have a pretty long plot mapped out but we'll see how this goes.
> 
> This is not your usual A/O Universe because first of all it's in a Handmaid's tale AU (so you KNOW terrible dark and fucked-up shit is gonna happen), and also I plan on playing around with typical relationship dynamics and pairings
> 
> Again, this is gonna be very dark and with a bit of a mix of pairings, so I understand if it's not everyone's cup of tea. Nonetheless, thank you if you decided to give it a go!

_Peter!! Run, Peter!!_

Her voice sounded muffled, thin like a thread about to snap. When he woke up, only a faint echo remained, crushed by the piercing cry of the morning alarm. The jarring noise was reminiscent of an incoming train, and his sleep muddled mind couldn’t process it beyond the acute pain of it. He screwed his eyes shut and sat up.

Blessedly, the shrill sound soon stopped, replaced by a different one.

“Good morning, darlings!” 

“Good morning, Aunt Lydia!” they answered in unison. 

Peter gritted his teeth against the throbbing in his temples and looked around.

Liz, ever quick and prudent, had already risen and neatly arranged her bed, now wrapping the red cape around herself. Her fingers kept twitching toward her hood, but she resisted the obvious urge to hide her face. He was glad to see the bandage covering her left eye had remained white through the night, the signs of the infection receding.

He glanced at the bed on his other side, where Tom was lying motionless. 

Peter threw a glance at Aunt Lydia, who was still near the door at the other end of the huge hall. 

He quickly approached the other boy’s bed and grabbed his shoulder.

“Tom” he whispered urgently. “Tom, wake up! Tom!”

Tom didn’t move.

Peter checked his pulse and exhaled sharply when he felt a sluggish beat. The skin was unnaturally hot. He brushed back his sweaty hair and felt a suffocating helplessness. He had tried. He had tried to help him - 

“What are you doing, darling?”

Peter jerked away. Aunt Helen had materialized from the other end of the room and was now watching him with a frown. Her large protuberant eyes gave her a perpetually surprised expression and always reminded Peter vividly of a cow. 

“F-Forgive me, Aunt Helen. I was just - I mean, Tom didn’t seem well. I was worri - thinking he had fallen ill.”

She threw Tom a quick glance then pinned her frown back on Peter.

“That is not your concern now, is it? We will look after him, don’t you worry. See to your own business”

“Yes, Aunt Helen”

He walked up to the narrow corridor that ran between the bunk beds. Michelle squeezed next to him in line.

“Stop that!” she hissed. “You’ve already fucked yourself over enough as it is!”

Peter didn’t meet her eyes. “He could have just been sleeping...”

“You saw what they did to him yesterday. Stop being stupid, Peter.”

He _was_ being stupid. Unbearably so. Stupid enough to see Tom’s yesterday attempt at fleeing the compound. Stupid enough to let him, to even drop to the ground as if fainting to provide him with a distraction. Stupid enough to jump to his defense later when they dragged him back, screaming and crying.

Stupid enough to try to reach him when they brought him back; limp, whimpering softly, his bandaged feet leaving behind a red smear on the floorboards.

Aunt Lydia had given him a disappointed look as she walked past. “You and your disobedience will be dealt with later.”

She hadn’t said anything more yet. Peter knew this nauseating anticipation was part of the punishment.

When they got back to the hall at night time, Tom was gone.

\-------------------------

But his name was not even Tom anymore. There was no Tom.

There was no Peter. 

They had no names. None the aunts would acknowledge. They were shadows in limbo, their only purpose to wait and be plucked out like ripe fruit.

\-------------------------

His first heat had come three weeks after arriving at the Red Center. He had woken up feverish and dismissed it as an effect of his weakened body. But Aunt Helen had frozen as soon as she passed him, and had quickly left only to return with two more aunts.

They took him to a darkened room and made him undress. That’s when his calm snapped. But when he tried to jerk away they dragged him back and secured his wrists in manacles attached to the wall. 

They left him alone in the dark for hours.

By the time they came back for him, there was wetness dripping down his thighs onto the stone floor and he wasn’t sure if the tremors racking his body were from the pain or the cold.

That’s when the monitor was turned on. The first video showed a naked Omega, a woman, screaming and struggling while two Alphas held her down. She was flushed and trembling, her legs slicked with her own heat, crying hoarsely while one of them raped her.

“This is what Alphas used to do to Omegas, darling.” Aunt Lydia had said, standing next to him with a hand buried in his hair so he wouldn’t look away. “When they smell the heat they can’t stop themselves. Only by bowing to God’s will we can find sanctuary from our animalistic urges.”

Her wetness was running red.

The next video showed a boy, layed down on a white bed, the blue-clad shape of a wife cradling his body while he was whimpering softly. A man came into the room and lifted the red cape covering him, grabbing his legs and beginning to gently thrust into him. The camera shied away from anything graphic, only showing the Omega’s dazed and flushed face as he murmured softly and begged for relief.

“God has given Omegas this burden for their sins. Only through prayer and an Alpha’s mercy can they escape this pain.”

Bile rose up in his throat and he choked on it, Aunt Lydia’s hand keeping his neck locked in place. He struggled until she released his hair, then doubled over as he vomited in harsh heaves.

“You will feel this once a month, and your Alpha will be there to help you through the pain. God has made it so they also suffer in order to ease your own suffering. They begin a heat of their own, where they seek out Omegas and fill them with the blessed seed and with God’s mercy a child will be conceived.”

She was staring at him from above, cold and unmoving.

“Blessed be the fruit.”

At his silence, she slapped him sharply across the face. He collapsed in the pool of his own vomit.

“Blessed be the fruit.”

She struck him with her leather belt until his throat went raw from screaming and he managed to murmur between dry lips. 

“May the Lord open, Aunt Lydia.”

\-------------------------

The next morning, they were having breakfast, a hard boiled egg and a piece of toast each, when Aunt Helen touched his shoulder. 

“Come with me, darling.” Her voice was pleasant, her manner warmer than usual. It instantly set Peter’s nerves on edge.

He walked with her down the deserted corridors up to Aunt Lydia’s office. Aunt Helen moved ahead and opened the door for him.

Aunt Lydia was beaming at him. She approached and cupped his cheeks in her leathery palms. Peter fought the violent urge to jerk away.

“We have wonderful news, darling.”

Peter’s stomach dropped to his knees. There were only two kinds of news in here.

“You can begin doing your duty now. You have been assigned a Commander.”

Her words seemed to come from very far away. 

“A - a commander? But I - I thought…”

What did he think? Stupidly, he had assumed that his age would offer some meagre protection against the fate looming on his horizon. Maybe just few more months. A few more days.

Aunt Lydia made a sympathetic sound.

“I know it can be a bit overwhelming in the beginning, but don’t you worry. You’ll get settled in no time at all. Just remember everything we’ve thought you and the importance of your duty, darling. It will be wonderful. Your Commander and his consort are delighted to have you.”

She smiled warmly and kissed his forehead.

“Blessed be the fruit, Ofsteven.”


	2. Ofsteven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter arrives at his new home.

“Always remember your duty, my dear.”

Aunt Lydia was seated beside him in the car driving them to the commander’s house. His commander. His new home.

“Commander Rogers is very important to Gilead and to us, and we need to ensure that his house is blessed with a child. Are you listening to me, my dear?”

Peter turned his head away from the window and looked at her.

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.”

“You and the others are very precious to us, to Gilead, you know that right? Omegas have been blessed by God to bear fruit and we need to cherish His gift.”

“Yes, Aunt Lydia” he said in the same toneless voice.

His throat had been burning with the threat of tears for hours now, even before they had left the Red Center. But he refused to cry in front of her.

“Aunt Lydia… am I their first handmaid?”

Aunt Lydia hesitated before answering.

“No, dear. They had another one not long ago. The Rogers have been having trouble conceiving for quite a while.” She paused, then added on a tone close to snide: “Could be the age difference and all that.”

Peter wasn’t surprised. He had never heard of a Commander younger that fifty, and this new confirmation had little to add to the fog of numb despair surrounding him.

“But now they have you, so maybe God will smile upon us” she continued in a warm voice. “Your heats will be irregular for a while yet, but you should have another one soon enough. You remember what I taught you about your heats, don’t you darling?”

He remembered. He remembered the unbearable pain in his muscles and the fear and the sickly sweet scent of his own shame. He remembered the videos they had made him watch and the stories they had told him. Over and over and over again, so he would always remember.

“Yes, Aunt Lydia.”

A few minutes later, the car drew to a stop. 

“Here we are darling. Your new home.”

The house could be better described as a mansion, a red brick three story building surrounded by lush greenery. The front door loomed ahead, heavy oak darkened by the shadow of the porch. It reminded Peter of a child’s nightmare, the kind of door you were afraid to open because you just _knew_ monsters were waiting on the other side. 

They walked the path to the door arm in arm, Aunt Lydia’s hand firmly holding his. When they stopped in front of it, she threw him another reassuring smile and knocked.

The door opened not two second later, revealing a dark-haired man in a blue suit. He had one of those smiles like the people in commercials. Brilliant and full of teeth, perfectly manufactured to inspire happiness and good humour.

Peter felt his shoulders tense even more.

“Aunt Lydia! Blessed be the fruit. Please, come in!”

Aunt Lydia smiled at him too, that same motherly smile she offered everyone.

“May the Lord open, Mr. Rogers.”

He moved out of the doorway and waved them inside with a grandiose gesture. The interior was just as obviously luxurious as the facade, dark wood gleaming on every surface. A massive staircase dominated the foyer, two doors on either side.

“My husband will join us soon. He had a bit of work to wrap up.”

“Oh, no worries, Mr. Rogers! I’m sure our commander is a very busy man.”

“Don’t I know it.” He chuckled with a self-deprecating air. “Please, do come in! Make yourselves comfortable.”

He led them through the door on the right to a tastefully opulent sitting room, and Aunt Lydia gently but firmly guided him to sit on the couch. The cream of the fabric contrasted sharply with the red robe wrapped around him.

 _Blood would show._ he thought half-hysterically.

Mr. Rogers took one of the armchairs while Aunt Lydia sat down next to Peter, close like you would with a friend. When he walked past, Peter caught a slight scent.

_Omega. Of course. He’s an Omega like me._

Somehow it hadn’t registered up until that point that the commander’s consort would be another Omega. He felt a dangerous sense of kinship with the older man. The soft lines around his eyes suggested he was in his thirties, which made Peter even more wary of Aunt Lydia’s comment regarding their ages. He tried to catch his gaze, but Mr. Rogers’ brown eyes were firmly fixed on Aunt Lydia.

“Our Martha will bring the tea in just a moment. Tell me, Aunt Lydia, how have you been? Your trip here was uneventful, I hope?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Rogers, nothing to complain about. The guards at the checkpoints were nothing but gracious. Which was a relief, since young Ofsteven here is a bit nervous to be out for the first time in quite a few months.”

Mr. Rogers made a sympathetic sound without throwing Peter a glance. 

“Yes, that’s completely understandable. Thank you again for bringing him to us.” He kept brushing his fingers over his chin, a gesture which oddly reminded Peter of his uncle. But his uncle had always worn a beard, while Mr. Rogers had the smoothly-shaved face appropriate for a consort.

“Please, Mr. Rogers, there’s no need to thank me. It is my duty to make sure our handmaids are always safe. It is an honour to entrust him to your care.”

Before Mr. Rogers could reply, a door opened somewhere behind them.

Peter heard him before he saw him: the man he now belonged to. He had a slow and measured step, no trace of a hurry even though there were three people waiting for him. 

“Blessed be the fruit, Aunt Lydia. My apologies for letting you wait.” The low baritone voice didn’t sound apologetic in the least.

“Oh, no apology necessary, Commander Rogers. Your work always takes priority.”

“You’re too kind.”

Peter didn’t dare raise his eyes, so the first glimpse he got of the commander was a pair of dark polished shoes and black suit pants.

He stopped next to his husband’s armchair and laid a hand on his shoulder. When Mr. Rogers smiled and covered the hand with his, Peter felt a wave of nausea.

_He’s not on your side. They’re in this together and don’t you dare forget it._

The silence stretched for a second. Aunt Lydia softly cleared her throat. 

“Commander Rogers, this is Ofsteven.”

“Welcome to our house, Ofsteven. Blessed be the fruit.”

Peter did look at him then, and had to make a conscious effort not to stare. He was shockingly young. He didn’t look a day over twenty-five, blonde and much taller than his husband. His demeanor was perfectly calm, every muscle of his face smoothed into indifference.

Peter dropped his eyes again and whispered “May the Lord open, Commander Rogers.”

Just then a small woman dressed in the Martha’s uniform walked in carrying a tray laden with tea and biscuits. She carefully placed it on the table, throwing Peter a quick glance as she straightened. 

“Thank you, Natalie” Commander Rogers murmured.

“Will that be all, sir?”

He nodded without looking at her.

She bowed her head once, a stray red curl slipping out from beneath her headscarf, and left without another word.

The commander settled in the armchair opposite their couch while Mr. Rogers served everyone their tea. When he handed Peter his cup, their eyes met for the first time. They were a curiously warm colour, at contrast with his sophisticated and aloof demeanor. Peter didn’t know what to say.

_Please help me._

_Please don’t hurt me._

“Thank you” he whispered instead.

Aunt Lydia took a bite of her biscuit and then smiled at the commander.

“You joined us at just the right time. I was just telling Mr. Rogers more about Ofsteven.”

Mr. Rogers leaned over and took his husband’s hand. 

“And we are very keen to know more.”

“Well, he -” 

“Forgive me, Commander Rogers. Commander Pierce is waiting for you on the line.”

Peter startled so violently Aunt Lydia had to press her hand warningly to his knee.

The voice that had startled him belonged to a man now filling the doorway, his black uniform unmistakably that of a driver. He was holding a cap in one of his gloved hands, staring straight ahead at a fixed point on the far wall.

The commander looked at him with the same blank expression. 

“Thank you, James. Aunt Lydia, you remember James, my driver. James, this is our new… guest. Ofsteven.”

James bowed slightly towards Aunt Lydia, then towards Peter, his eyes on the floor.

“Tell Commander Pierce I will be with him in just a moment, James”

“Yes, Sir.”

As he turned and left, his eyes slid over Peter. They were a strikingly light blue.

Aunt Lydia chuckled.

“Do forgive Ofsteven his reaction. He is very much a young fowl in the ways of the world and easily startled. It’s the nerves you know. Change can be so hard sometimes.”

Commander Rogers moved his lips in the barest hint of a smile.

“I can only imagine.”

“But don’t you worry Commander Rogers. He may be young, but he is very keen on fulfilling his duty to Gilead. He has been an exemplary student of mine at the center and I am sure he will not disappoint.”

Mr. Rogers looked at his husband and then smiled warmly at Aunt Lydia.

“Praise be. That is wonderful news.”

“As I was just about to say earlier, he is very devoted to our ways. We took much greater care with our selection this time” she chuckled with a self-deprecating air. “God willing, I’m sure you will be blessed with a child very soon.”

“Praise be” Commander Rogers said solemnly.

The silence fell again, more heavily this time. 

“Well then, I would hate to overstay my welcome. Thank you again for your warm hospitality, Mr. Rogers, but I must get going now. I’ll drop by on Friday for Ofsteven’s check-ups and all that. You know how tedious it all is. Commander, always a pleasure.”

They all stood up, the tea still gently steaming in the mostly full cups. The biscuits were untouched save for the one Aunt Lydia had nibbled on, left there like props at the end of a play. 

Before she left she turned back to Peter and cupped his cheeks. 

“Be good, my dear” she told him gently.

Mr. Rogers walked her back to the foyer, chatting with her all the while about how terribly cold it was for September. Peter stayed rooted next to the couch, his eyes still on the teacups, just a few feet away from a man who owned him.

The heavy oak door closed with a reverberating thump, leaving them in silence once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys thank you so much for your support!!! Your comments give me life.


	3. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tries to come to grips with his new reality.

Nothing moved for a moment. Peter felt it all suspended around him: the tension, the quiet, the fear, choking him with every breath.

The Commander shifted on the periphery of his vision, and he couldn’t suppress a startle.

“Welcome to our house, Ofsteven. My husband will make sure you will be comfortable here. If you’ll excuse me.”

He walked back the way he had appeared. Calm, measured, indifferent. His steps receded back inside the unknown depths of the house.

Peter’s house now.

Mr Rogers walked back into the sitting room and stopped near the doorway. He cleared his throat.

“Natalie will show you to your room.” His voice has lost the fake cheerfulness and any trace of the smile he had worn in Aunt Lydia’s presence.

Peter nodded, his eyes fixed on a point above Mr Rogers’ right shoulder. He could see his shoulder constantly move slightly up and down as if the man was incapable of staying still. 

The Martha, Natalie, materialized next to him as if summoned by the words. Her attention was on Mr Rogers, so Peter dared look at her properly, this woman who was as much a prisoner in this house as him.

She looked small and fragile, the customary green dress of the Marthas clearly too large for her frame. Her hair was hidden by a matching scarf, the red curl that had escaped earlier nowhere in sight. As he took in her features, he was surprised to discover how lovely she was. It was a strange beauty, so obvious to him now, but one he had somehow missed entirely just a moment before. 

He was still watching her when her eyes snapped to his, and he was arrested by how green and sharp they were.

Perhaps her unremarkable demeanour was no accident. 

And how could he blame her? Someone beautiful like her, even if only a Beta, could only attract unwanted attention in a world like theirs. He often wished for a way to hide too. He felt the familiar resentment rise like bile at the back of his throat. That he had been born weak and helpless and in a world like theirs.

Her eyes fell away and she bowed slightly. “Of course, Mr Rogers. Please follow me.”

The words were obviously addressed to Peter, even though she didn’t look at him again. She turned away and moved towards the stairs. 

Peter hesitated only a second, mumbling a “Mr Rogers” to the man’s knees, and followed her deeper inside the house.

His new home.

\------------------------------------------

It was built like a maze. Corridors upon corridors cutting through each other like vines. There didn’t seem to be a main hallway upstairs at all, many rooms only accessible by going through several others. 

Peter tried to memorise the path they were now taking, most likely to his room.

The room turned out to be a small chamber close to the attic, spartan and unremarkable, but at least clean.

A bed, a wardrobe, a nightstand. A small bathroom next door. No books, no curtains, no personal belongings of any kind. 

Bars on the window. Peter couldn’t take his eyes away from them, the crack in this whole charade, the glaring proof of what he really was.

“This will be your room. We are having dinner every day at 7. I will tell you more about your daily schedule tomorrow after you’ve rested.”

“Thank you” he mumbles, still looking at the window.

He later blamed it on his tiredness, the adrenaline slowly leaving him, the numbness beginning to settle. Making him slow and stupid.

“What are they like?” Hearing his words out loud, hanging in the air between them, made him startle. He looked at her then, filled with both fear and a shred of hope that felt like pain.

She was staring at him, her face a beautiful mask. 

“The - the commander and his husband I mean. Are - are they - “

Peter didn’t know how to finish that sentence. The words were getting clogged in the tears he had been fighting all day to keep inside.

_Are they cruel?_

_Are they indifferent?_

_Are they true believers of Gilead?_

_Are you?_

Her lips parted slightly, but then she just gave him a slight nod and moved towards the door.

“Dinner is at 7” she said without turning back.

Peter sat down on the bed. He was suddenly struck by a wave of helplessness fiercer than anything he had felt before. Worse than when they ran into the woods, worse than when they dragged him back and left Aunt May bleeding in the rotten leaves.

It felt like watching the videos at the Red Center. Hours and hours of film, scenes upon scenes depicting the beauty of Gilead, the honour the Handmaids were given, The Ceremony.

He rushed to the toilet and heaved, but only bile would come up.

The Ceremony. Aunt Lydia had told him about it at great length. She had seemed to gain great satisfaction from teaching the Omegas in her care about their duty in the new and glorious nation of Gilead. A duty to submit, to bear children.

To submit to whatever high ranking commander needed an heir that their infertile consort couldn’t provide, to bear the ceremony every month when their heat came. When he’d have to lie down and let the commander -

But it wasn’t just _a_ commander anymore. Peter had met him. He was downstairs right now. With his cold demeanour and measured movements, careless of other people around him, unmoved by Peter or his fear.

The tiled floor he was leaning on felt almost warm against the cold sweat breaking all over his body.

And the husband will be there too. The Ceremony required it. Peter’s body nothing but an unfortunate but necessary addition. Mr Rogers, would be there and hold Peter down, while the commander would -

Peter curled up on the floor, his arms wrapped around himself to try and stop his shaking.

_I can’t do this. I can’t do this._

His mind was shying away from the reality he had found himself hurled into. He wanted to lie down and let numbness cover him like a blanket, protect him from the future awaiting him and it’s unknown horrors.

_I won’t lie to you, Peter. If we are to survive, we need to know what we’re fighting, and if we are to know, we can’t shy away from the truth._

He thought of Aunt May’s words, her gentle spirit, her unshakable will that they will make it out somehow, that they would be able to escape. Her wet gasps receding as they dragged him away from her.

She never cried. She never gave up.

He stood up and leaned heavily against the sink. There was no mirror above it. They would never be so foolish as to let glass within his reach.

He couldn’t just lie here and wait. He _refused_ to lie here and wait.

He splashed cold water on his face, his movements jerky, almost violent. 

_They’ll rape me. They’ll keep me here and rape me until I give them what they want._

He knew this. He had expected it. He had to be ready for it and not under any circumstances let it break him.

He wasn’t sure anymore whether the drops running down his cheeks were water or his own tears.

_I can’t give up either._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for giving this a go!! You're all wonderful and I'm so so sorry updating has been so slow. But fear not! It will not be abandoned. Besides, Endgame has filled me with a newfound writing frenzy, so stay tuned!


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